


Nothing I do is ever good

by starryjulia



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Unhealthy Relationships, i don't know i'm just emotional, idrk what to tag this, it's like. sad fluff, slight mentions of wounds/blood but nothing graphic, this is set soon after dream exploded l'manburg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 09:35:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28668585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starryjulia/pseuds/starryjulia
Summary: George feels like he doesn't know Dream anymore. Dream wants to know that everything is okay.aka, an au where George is absent from the lore because Dream doesn't want him to see what he's become.(title from i cant handle change by roar)
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 87





	Nothing I do is ever good

“Hello?” George’s small voice called out from deeper in their house at the sound of footsteps.

Dream stopped in his tracks. He hadn’t expected him to be awake still, having purposely stayed out gathering resources to avoid him for at least the first night. It hadn’t worked. 

“It’s just me, don’t worry,” he assured.

He sighed heavily and dropped his sword in the entrance to clean later. The less evidence George had to see of the fight the better. 

He shouldered off his bag, too, pulling out the few books he had cared enough to save from L’Manburg before blowing it to smithereens. He rubbed a calloused thumb over the soft leather covers. The titles were faded and scratched away, but it didn’t matter much. He could practically recite them from memory.

He deftly unlocked the ender chest in the corner of his study and tucked the books away among the rest of his valuables. All of his most prized possessions were inside of this chest, hidden away from the world and only accessible to him. 

Soft footsteps pattered in the room, getting closer until he saw George’s reflection in the polished obsidian on the chest. He closed it with a  _ click _ and slowly turned to face the man behind him. 

George’s eyebrows furrowed when he saw him. Half hidden by his hair, a large gash was sticky with drying blood. A bruise blossomed on his cheekbone, sickening shades of green and purple swirled together in a swollen patch that was sure to hurt for a week if he was lucky. George brought his hand up to inspect it.

Dream’s large hand shot up to grasp his slender wrist in reflex. His green eyes met George’s dark ones. George wished he could say there was some sadness, some regret behind them, but it was impossible to read him. Even when he wasn’t wearing that stupid white mask, his own features seemed set stubbornly in a blank expression. Even in their own home, he couldn’t let his strong facade waver. It seemed like every day Dream got more distant. George wasn’t sure how much of the real him was left after having to push aside his emotions so many times.

George didn’t resist, but he made no move to pull away either. The rough pads of Dream’s calloused hands dug into his arm as a warning. Gently, he pulled his wrist towards him until his hand rested on his cheek, covered by Dream’s own. The flickering torchlight cast shadows on his pale hand. It stood out in stark contrast from Dream’s tanned and ash-covered face, looking strangely out of place. They used to fit together so well.

His thumb brushed carefully at the faint red spatters that mingled with his freckles. Whether he wished it was from Dream or someone else, he wasn’t sure. He didn’t know which was worse.

Leaning down, he pressed his lips into Dream’s. They were chapped and cold from being outside in the chilled night air. Under his hand, he felt Dream’s jaw go slightly slack as he melted into the kiss. The metallic tang of blood coated his tongue. He wanted to cry.

Dream hissed and leaned away from George’s touch when he accidentally pressed into the bruise. His eyes opened for a brief moment before they closed again as he rested his forehead against George’s.

“You’re hurt,” George whispered.

“Not much,” Dream said. He couldn’t tell if he was lying more to himself or to George.

George’s fingers swiped across the bruise again, making Dream wince in pain. 

“Please, Dream, just let me help. You don’t have to deal with everything alone. You don’t always have to be strong,” he pleaded. His heart ached as Dream pulled back from him and retreated back into his closed-off self again.

“I promise to be careful,” he tried one last time. 

Dream glanced down at his arms, littered with cuts and bruises from all of his combat today. He still didn’t know proper first aid, even after all these wars. He slid his hand into George’s outstretched one and let himself get tugged along to the bathroom.

George pressed him down to sit on the edge of the bathtub and wait while he rummaged through their medicine cabinet. He turned back to Dream with antiseptic and gauze in hand, sink already running to heat up. Gently turning Dream’s face towards him, he kept his fingertips holding his chin as he began to work.

Dream clenched his jaw at the sting of the antiseptic on his wounds. He hated it more than getting injured in the first place. He waited patiently while George cleaned every cut and scrape, patching him up slightly excessively. 

His eyes fluttered closed when he dragged a warm washcloth over his face to wipe away the blood and ash from the TNT. As much as he hated being weak, the comfort was nice and he could tell George needed something to busy himself. He felt torn about leaving him in the dark, but he dreaded what he would think if he saw him  _ like that _ .

Tommy’s words from earlier still haunted him,

“Am I… a monster?” He whispered, words barely audible. 

He felt George still in front of him but refused to open his eyes. A warm kiss pressed into his cheek. He leaned into the touch, burying his face in the crook of George’s neck.

“Why would you ever think that?” He murmured into Dream’s ear, making him shiver. 

In a different time, Dream would be crying. He wished he could.

“Just something someone said, after today,” he answered vaguely, “Do you think I did the right thing? Making it all go away?”

George threaded a hand into his soft hair and pulled him closer.

“Of course,” he said, “I trust you to do what was best.”

He wasn’t sure when he had become such a liar.

**Author's Note:**

> I had this idea and immediately wrote it all in one go, so I apologize if it's messy! Hope you enjoyed it though :D


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